


Just Like a Hardy Boys Book

by citrinesunset



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's quiet evening is interrupted when Neal manages to find trouble in his own home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like a Hardy Boys Book

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pooh_collector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pooh_collector/gifts).



> This is a very belated birthday fic for [](http://pooh-collector.livejournal.com/profile)[pooh_collector](http://pooh-collector.livejournal.com/). I hope you like it, and I apologize for the lateness!

Peter was watching TV with El when his phone vibrated on the coffee table. He grumbled and took his arm from around El's shoulder so that he could look at his watch. It was after ten.

"Who could that be?" El asked.

"I don't know, but it'd better be important."

He hoped it didn't have anything to do with the stakeout Diana was running. It was just light surveillance, so he'd felt okay not being there tonight. But it was hard not to wonder how it was going.

Instead, as he picked up his phone, he saw Neal's name on the display.

Figured.

He sat back, answered the call, and tried to make his annoyance audible as he said, "Yeah, Neal?"

"Peter! Hey, I need a favor."

"Can it wait? It's the middle of the night."

"No, it can't. Listen, I have to talk fast because I don't think there's good reception in here."

"Where are you?" Peter suddenly got the urge to bring up Neal's tracking data. Unfortunately, his laptop was upstairs and he couldn't check it on the phone and talk to Neal at the same time.

"I'm home. But I'm stuck in a secret passageway in June's library."

Peter sat up and leaned forward. " _What_? You never told me about a secret passage."

Thoughts of what Neal could get up to with a secret passage at his disposal flooded Peter's mind.

"I didn't know about it. Look, I went in and the door closed behind me. The mechanism to open it isn't working."

"Is there another way out?"

"Would I seriously be calling you right now if I hadn't checked?"

"Fair enough. Where's June?"

"She's visiting her son. And Mozzie isn't answering any of his phones."

"All right. I'll head on over there." Something occurred to him. "Neal, how much battery life does your phone have?"

"I don’t know, maybe eighty percent."

"Good. Stay on the line, okay? If the reception's bad, it's probably best if we try to keep the call going."

"You're right. Once you're in the house, I can give you directions to where the door was."

"All right. I'm going to hand the phone over to Elizabeth while I get my shoes on, okay?"

He handed the phone to his very confused-looking wife and ran upstairs.

 

* * *

 

Peter always knew that Neal's living arrangements would cause some sort of trouble. But Neal getting stuck in a hidden passageway wasn't exactly the sort of trouble Peter had initially imagined.

At least he had keys to June's place and Neal's apartment. He was very glad now that he'd insisted on that.

The house was dark, but there was a light on in the library. Peter still had Neal on the other line, and had been keeping him talking to make sure he was still there. It was lucky for Neal that he'd had his phone on him when he went into the passageway.

"Okay," Peter said. "We're in the library. Now where's this hidden passage?"

"There's a shelf to the left of the fireplace. The mechanism is in the fourth shelf up, in the back."

"Of course the hidden passageway is behind a bookcase...."

Fortunately, since Neal had moved the books that must have concealed the mechanism, it wasn't difficult for Peter to find. There was a small lever in the back of the shelf, but when he pulled it, nothing seemed to happen.

"It's not opening," he said.

"I think it broke when I tried to open it from this side. But I was hoping it would still work on your side."

He could faintly hear Neal's voice behind the bookcase, as well as over the phone. At least Neal was nearby.

"One second. I'm going to take a look and see if I can figure out how the door open."

He set his phone on the fireplace mantle. Elizabeth, who was still standing near the door, turned on the overhead light.

"Thanks, Hon," Peter said, looking over his shoulder.

"Is Elizabeth there?" Neal's voice, though faint, came from both the phone and behind the bookcase. It was eerie.

"Yeah," Peter said loudly. "She is."

"Hi, Neal," Elizabeth called out.

Peter found a small stepladder in the corner and carried it over. If he could get a little higher, he could get a better look at the lever. He'd brought a small flashlight, and now he pulled it out of his pocket and shone it in the dark recesses of the shelf.

The lever looked old. The passageway had probably been there for as long as the house had been standing. Neal should have known better than to mess with it. But that was Neal, always messing with stuff he shouldn't touch.

After a few minutes of careful examination, Peter said, loudly enough for Neal to hear, "It's broken. I think our only hope is to pry open the bookcase."

"Do you have any idea how old these shelves are? They're solid oak."

"I'm not the one who'll have to explain it to June."

"Hold on. Before you do anything, let me take another look around, see if I can find anything."

"Is there anything in there you could use to force the door open?"

"Nothing useful. There's an old cigar box full of poker chips, a coin, and a _Playboy_ magazine from the '80s."

"Great," Peter mumbled under his breath. Then, louder, he said, "Neal?"

There was no answer. Frantically, he grabbed his phone.

"Neal, are you there?"

"Yeah, but I moved away from the door. I'm going down the passage."

"Be careful."

"Don't worry. I've got a flashlight."

"There could be rats, you know."

"Thanks for the warning."

Peter turned to El and said, "I should've brought some tools."

"Do you want me to look around for something? A crowbar?"

Peter sighed. He didn't really want to do damage to June's house. But it didn't look like there was any other way of getting Neal out.

"Yeah, go ahead. Try Neal's apartment."

After she left, Peter said, "Neal, we're going to try to find something that can pry the bookshelf open."

"I think I'm behind the kitchen, now. There might be another door."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "What? And you didn't check this _before_ you disrupted my quiet evening at home?"

"No, I did, but it wouldn't budge. Let me try again."

For a minute, all he heard on the other end was Neal's heavy breathing and some faint grunts of exertion. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and it didn't just come from over the phone.

Peter hurried in the direction of the noise. He found himself in the kitchen, a room he'd never seen before. The place was pristine except for the long rectangular hole in the wall. Neal was lying on the floor, on top of what appeared to be the missing part of the wall. The force of the fall had caused three pans to fall from hooks on the wall beside the "doorway," and they lay on the floor, still vibrating.

"What did you do?" Peter asked as he took in the scene. A light cloud of dust rose from around the displaced panel. Neal's fancy black suit was covered in dust and dirt.

"I found the door."

"And what, broke it down?"

"I was trying to push it open. Worked, didn't it?"

Before Peter could respond to that, he saw Neal wince in pain as he pulled his left leg out of the hole in the wall.

"My anklet got caught on something when I fell. I think I twisted my ankle."

Peter sighed as he walked over. "That’s what you get, traipsing around in hidden passageways that don't belong to you." He crouched down beside Neal and touched his ankle. Then he reached into his pocket for the key to it.

"I guess I'll have to do without it for a while," Neal said as Peter removed the anklet.

"Or we could put it on your right leg."

"Or we could do that."

There was a sound in the doorway, and Peter turned to see Elizabeth hurrying in.

"What happened here?" she asked. "I heard the crash all the way from upstairs."

"Neal found a way out," Peter said dryly.

"I guess there's no need for a crowbar now."

"No, I guess not."

Neal struggled pathetically to get to his feet. Peter grabbed him under the armpit and helped hoist him up, and then supported him with an arm around the waist. Neal hooked his arm around Peter's shoulders.

"Come on," Peter said. "Let's get your ankle elevated."

He didn't think Neal should take the stairs right now, so he took him back to the library, instead, where he deposited him on the sofa. Neal took off his dusty jacket and his shoes, and leaned against the arm of the sofa so that he could rest his ankle on some pillows stacked on the seat.

Elizabeth followed a minute later. She'd found an icepack in the freezer and put it on Neal's ankle.

Peter didn't feel right leaving June's kitchen in the state it was in, so while Elizabeth sat with Neal, he went back to the kitchen to straighten up the worst of the mess.

As he crouched down to pick up the fallen wall panel, the dark opening into the passage caught his eye. Now that Neal was freed from it, Peter couldn't help but be curious.

Standing, he pulled out his flashlight and walked toward the doorway. The passageway was dark. If there was electricity in there, the bulbs must have burned out ages ago. But the walls appeared sturdy. The brick was old but solid. The wood floor creaked as Peter stepped inside.

There was a layer of dust on everything, and some spider webs in the corners. Spiders and insects could obviously get in and out.

The passage was narrow, but down further he could see a small square table and a chair.

Peter began to feel like an intruder, so he turned around and stepped back into the brightly-lit kitchen. He picked up the wall panel and leaned it against the opening to the passageway. There were flecks of paint and plaster on the floor, and Peter found a broom in the pantry to sweep the floor with. He was just finishing when he heard the front door open.

By the time he made it to the hall, no one was there. But he followed the sound of voices the library, where he found June, still in her coat, talking to Neal and Elizabeth.

"My goodness," she was saying. "I never imagined this would happen. I'm sorry you were hurt."

"Don’t apologize until you see what he did to your kitchen," Peter said dryly.

El widened her eyes at him and mouthed "Hon." Peter just shrugged innocently.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not a big deal. I'm just glad everything is okay," June said. To Neal, she said, "I suppose I should have warned you about that passageway. The truth is, I haven't been in it in years. Byron used to go in there sometimes, but it's not in good repair anymore, and with the grandchildren, I've kept it closed off. And the door leading to the kitchen had been painted over years ago, before Byron and I even moved in here."

"I probably shouldn't have gone in there," Neal said. "I found the lever in the bookcase and wanted to check it out."

June got a twinkle in her eye. "I don't blame you. Perhaps this is a good excuse to get the door fixed. It would be good to be able to use it again."

"Just don't tell Mozzie," Neal said. "He'll want to use it to store—" he looked at Peter "—various things the FBI wouldn't want to know about."

"Well," June said, "since everyone's here, why don't I make some coffee?"

Peter was about to decline—it was late. But Neal was quick to agree.

"Why don't we have it in my apartment?" Neal suggested.

Neal started to get up. When Peter saw him limping, he frowned.

"Think you can manage the stairs okay?"

"I'll be fine. I'll use the railing."

As it happened, though, Peter ended up helping him up, letting Neal hold onto him with his left arm while holding onto the railing with his right.

When they reached Neal's apartment, Neal collapsed onto the sofa with a small, relieved sigh.

"You sure you're okay?" Peter asked. "You didn't break it, did you?"

"No, I don't think so. It's just twisted. I'll keep some ice on it and stay off it for a while." He looked up at Peter hopefully. "It might help if I take tomorrow off. You know, to recover."

"All right," Peter said with a small smile, "fine. But that reminds me. I need to put your anklet on your other foot."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "Really? You think I'm going to run with a twisted ankle?"

"I seem to recall you were able to run from Interpol while in a wheelchair once."

A smile spread across Neal's face. "Oh, yeah. I hurt my knee jumping off a wall, and it turns out wheelchairs are good for carrying all sorts of stuff. Allegedly, I mean."

Peter crouched down to put the anklet on Neal. "Well, if it makes you feel better, if it was just for a few days, I'd leave the anklet off. But your ankle might need some time to heal."

"Yeah, probably. Moz is going to be disappointed."

Peter looked up. "Oh? Anything I should know about?"

"Mozzie thinks he found a coded message in some graffiti he found in an alley and that it has something to do with the Kennedy assassination. He wants me to walk around the area with him to investigate."

"Great, now you have an excuse not to."

Neal didn't disagree.

June and Elizabeth joined them, then. They each carried two cups of coffee, and Elizabeth had a fresh ice pack tucked under her arm.

They sat for a while drinking their coffee. Then Peter looked at his watch and realized it was after midnight, now. He didn't feel as tired as he should have. All the excitement had woken him up. The caffeine probably didn't help.

Still, he had to work in the morning.

"I think it's time we headed home," he said. "You'll be all right, Neal?"

"Yeah," Neal said. "The ice is really helping my ankle. Thanks for coming to the rescue." He said it breezily, but a hint of sheepishness seeped into his voice, like he finally realized how ridiculous it was, getting trapped in a secret passage like he thought he was in a Hardy Boys book or something.

Peter could have ribbed him for it, but didn't.

On the drive home, though, he didn't hesitate to tell El what he was thinking.

"Can you believe him? Only Neal could go into a room to read a book and find a way to get stuck in the wall." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw El smirk. "What?"

"Are you sure you're not a little jealous?"

"Jealous?"

"You have to admit, it's a little exciting, finding a hidden passageway."

"Yeah, it is."

It was just like a Hardy Boys book. And Peter still had his collection boxed up in the basement.

As they drove across the Brooklyn Bridge, Peter said, "Do you think it would be possible for our house to have something like that?"


End file.
